


qui gemit in exilio

by catie_writes_things



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis
Genre: Christmas, Drabble, Gen, Post-LWW, Spiritual, pre-PC, wartime rationing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 06:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15333720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catie_writes_things/pseuds/catie_writes_things
Summary: Christmas of 1940 is not the happiest the Pevensies have ever had, and Edmund's got a few new things on his mind.prompt - Edmund, Mrs. Pevensie, "You sound like you're trying to convince yourself."





	qui gemit in exilio

Christmas of 1940 was certainly not the happiest Edmund could remember. Dad was still away, of course, and they were still staying with Professor Kirke. Edmund liked the old man a good deal more than he had when they had first come to his old country house, but it wasn’t the same as having his father around. At least Mum was able to join them.

Planning Christmas dinner was a complicated affair with the rationing on. Edmund heard all about it from Susan, who had found her way into helping the cook and loved every minute of it. Peter was taking everything in stride, but Lucy was rather glum, especially on Christmas Eve, when they had walked with Professor Kirke to the old village church for a dimly-lit service on account of the blackout restrictions.

Presents the next morning did cheer her up. Mum had made Lucy a doll out of scraps of fabric, which she adored. Peter’s gift was a pocket-watch that had belonged to their grandfather, polished up to look like new, and Susan was given a gold cross and chain that Mum had inherited from one of her aunts. Edmund got a handsome leather bound book entitled  _Tales of England’s Greatest Kings._  

“Thank you,” Edmund said politely, flipping through the pages. The book had color illustrations of royal knights and noble ladies in courtly attire. Henry V was shown astride a horse that reminded Edmund of his own mount in Narnia. “It’s wonderful. It really is.”

Mum smiled sadly. “It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. Edmund felt a stab of guilt. He was grateful, really. He knew money was short and all. Susan hardly ever stopped talking about all the ways they would have to make do.

But what he couldn’t explain to his mother was that the worst thing about this Christmas was not the practical gifts or the the underwhelming dinner or even his father’s absence. It was remembering other Christmases, celebrated with their friends the Beavers and the other Talking Animals and of course Mr. Tumnus, in a country where the fresh air seemed fresher and bright colors brighter. It was remembering their first Christmas in Narnia, and the reason why the others had received such wonderful gifts on that occasion, and he had not.

“No, really, I mean it, Mum,” Edmund insisted. “Thank you.”

Mum was called away by Susan and Lucy, and Edmund was left with his thoughts. The Professor had told them they might one day find their way back to Narnia, but what if he somehow failed again, and got left behind as a result while the others went on without him? He tapped one finger anxiously on the golden lions on King Henry’s shield.

Professor Kirke filled the seat opposite him that his mother had just vacated, his sharp eyes taking in the illustration the book lay open to and Edmund’s face in one sweep. “Thinking of our mutual friend?” he asked.

Edmund nodded. “I do hope, someday, to see him again,” he said softly.

“That you will, my boy,” the Professor replied. “Maybe in that other place, or maybe elsewhere, but He’s not known to let people hope in vain.”


End file.
